8. "O grief of griefs !" with shrieking voice she cried, "What sight is this that I have lived to see! O! that I had in youth's fair season died, From all false joys, and bitter sorrows free. 9. Was it for this alas! with weary bill,

Was it for this I pois'd th' unwieldy straw;
For this I bore the moss from yonder hill,

Nor shunn'd the pon'drous stick along to draw?
10. Was it for this I pick'd the wool with care,
Intent with nicer skill our work to crown:
For this, with pain I bent the stubborn hair,
And lin'd our cradle with the thistle's down?
11. Was it for this my freedom I resign'd
And ceas'd to rove at large from plain to plain
For this I sat at home whole days confin'd,

To bear the scorching heat, and pealing rain?
12. Was it for this my watchful eyes grew dim?
For this the roses on my cheek turn pale?
Pale is my golden plumage, once so trim !

And all my wonted mirth and spirits fail!" 13. Thus sung the mournful bird her piteous tale ;-The piteous tale her mournful mate return'd: Then side by side they sought the distant vale; And there in secret sadness inly mourn'd.

SECTION VIII.

The Pet Lamb.

JAGO.

1. THE dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink; I heard a voice; it said, " Drink pretty creature, drink!"

And looking o'er the hedge, before me I espied, A snow-white mountain Lamb, with a maiden at its side. 2. No other sheep were near, the lamb was all alone, And by a slender cord was tether'd to a stone; With one knee on the grass did the little maiden kneel, While to the mountain Lamb she gave its evening

meal.

3. 'Twas little Barbara Lethwaite, a child of beauty rare: I watch them with delight; they were a lovely pair.

And now with empty can, the maiden turn'd away, But ere ten yards were gone her footsteps did she stay. 4. Towards the Lamb she look'd and from that shady place,

I unobserved could see the workings of her face: If nature to her tongue could measur'd numbers bring, Thus, thought I, to her Lamb that little maid would sing. 5. What ails the young one? what? why pull so at thy cord ?

Is it not well with thee? well both for bed and board? Thy plot of grass is soft, as green as grass can be: Rest, little young one, rest; what is't that aileth thee 6. What is it thou would'st seek? What's wanting to thy heart?

Thy limbs are they not strong? and beautiful thou art : "This grass is tender grass; these flowers they have

no peers;

And that green corn all day is rustling in thy ears. 7. If the sun is shining hot, do but stretch thy woollen chain, This beech is standing by, its covert thou canst gain: For rain and mountain storms the like thou need'st not fear;

The rain and storm are things which scarcely can come here.

8. Rest, little young one, rest; thou hast forgot the day When my father found thee first in places far away : Many flocks were on the hills, but thou wert own'd by

none.

And thy mother from thy side for ever more was gone. 9. He took thee in his arms, and in pity brought thee

home;

A blessed day for thee; then whither wouldst thou roam ?

A faithful nurse thou hast; the dam that did the yean Upon the mountain tops, no kinder could have been 10. Thou know'st that twice a day, I've brought thee in this can

Fresh water from the brook, as clear as ever ran: And twice in the day, when the ground is wet with dew, I bring thee draughts of milk, warm milk it is and

new.

11. It will not, will not rest!-Poor creature! can it be That 'tis thy mother's heart, which is working so in thee?

Things that I know not of perhaps to thee are dear, And dreams of things which thou canst neither see nor hear.

12. Alas! the mountain tops that look so green and fair!I've heard of fearful winds and darkness that come there :

The little brooks, that seem all pastime and all play, When they are angry, roar like lions for their prey. 13. Here thou need'st not dread the raven in the sky; He will not come to thee; our cottage is hard by. Night and day thou art as safe as living thing can be: Be happy then and rest; what is't that aileth thee?"

SECTION IX..

WORDSWORTH.

The Farmer the Spaniel and the Cat.

1. As at his board a Farmer sat,
Replenish'd by his homely treat,
His fav'rite Spaniel near him stood,
And with his master shar'd the food;
The crakling bones his jaws devour'd,
His lapping tongue the trenchers scour'd;
Till sated now, supine he lay,

And snor'd the rising fumes away.
2. The hungry Cat, in turn drew near,
And humbly crav'd a servant's share,
Her modest worth the master knew,
And straight the fatt'ning morsel threw.
3. Enrag'd the snarling cur awoke,
And thus with spiteful envy spoke :
"They only claim a right to eat,
Who earn by services their meat;
Me, zeal and industry inflame

To scour the fields, and spring the game;
Or, plunged in the wint'ry wave,

For man the wounded bird to save.

4. With watchful diligence I keep

From prowling wolves his fleecy sheep:

At home his midnight hours secure, And drive the robber from the door. For this his breast with kindness glows, For this his hand the food bestows. 5. And shall thy indolence impart A warmer friendship to his heart, That thus he robs me of my due, To pamper such vile things as you?" 6. "I own," with meekness, Puss replied, "Superior merit on your side

;

Nor does my heart with envy swell,
To find it recompens'd so well:
Yet I, in what my nature can.
Contribute to the good of man.

7. Whose claws destroy the pilf'ring mouse?
Who drives the vermin from the house?
Or, watchful for the lab'ring swain,
From lurking rats secures the grain?
From hence if he rewards bestow,

Why should your heart with gall o'erflow ?
Why pine my happiness to see,
Since there's enough for you and me ?"
"Thy words are just," the Farmer cried,
And spurn'd the snarler from his side.

SECTION X.

The Wheat and the Weeds.

1. 'Twas in a pleasant month of spring,
When flow'rets bloom and warblers sing
A field of wheat began to rise,

The farmer's hope, his country's prize,
When lo! amid the op'ning ears,
A various crop of weeds appears.
The poppy, soldier-like array'd,
Its flimsy scarlet flow'rs displayed.
Some like the lofty sky, where blue;
And some were ting'd with golden hue;
But every where the wheat was seen,
Clad in one robe of modest green.
2. It chanc'd three youths, in city bred,
That knew to eat-not raise their bread,

GAY

For pleasure's sake had rambled there,
To see the sun, and breathe fresh air.
Of herbs and grein they little knew
What Linnæus wrote, or Sinclair grew:
But each, as o'er the field they gaz'd,
What fancy led to, pluck'd and prais'd.
3. "See," said the first, "this flow'r so red,
That gently bows its blushing head;
Can the whole field a plant display,
So rich, so noble, and so gay?"

"Yes," said the next," the flow'r I show,
With star-like rays, and sky-like blue,
So much does your dull plant outshine,
That the best choice is surely mine."
4. "Stop." said the third, "the flow'r I hold,
With cluster'd leaves of burnish'd gold,
Than yours or his, is richer dress'd:
The choice I've made, is doubtless best."
In this, however, each agreed,
That nothing could his own exceed,
And that the rising blades of green,
Did not deserve to grow between.
5. A Farmer chanc'd behind the gate
To overhear the youths' debate :

Knowing from ign'rance error springs, He strove to teach them better things. 6. "My lads," he said, "now understand, These are but weeds that spoil our land; But the green blades you trample down, Are wheat, man's food, and nature's crown. With art and pains the crop is sown, And thus your daily bread is grown. Alas! your judgment was not right, Because you judg'd from outward sight."

SECTION XI.

Economy the source of Charity.

1. By gen'rous goodness taught, my early youth
Soon learn'd humanity.-My parents died-
Orphans have claims on charitable souls;
The pious Edgar thought so: mov'd perhaps